I don't know about you, but as a writer, I find it very hard to take a break. If I'm not writing, I'm thinking about writing. Or reading about writing, or listening to writing-related podcasts. Or even reading a non-writing book, but observing the craft within its pages.
I think you get my meaning.
This was pretty evident over the weekend. My husband, for Father's Day, wanted to go camping. Unfortunately, Missouri, like Texas and Oklahoma, has been getting a TON of rain. So, on Friday, we left our home and headed southeast without a firm plan. We had some ideas, we'd checked a few water levels, but really had no idea what we were getting into. Four years ago, we'd visited the area at flood stage, and had at least an inkling of an idea it could be interesting.
We didn't arrive at our proposed destination until well past sundown. We had hints along the way that the region was seriously flooded--news pictures on Facebook posted by friends of flooded trails, as well as a normally canoe-navigable river just below the bridge it flows under instead of far enough below to allow a boat to cross.
So we weren't terribly surprised to discover the place we wanted to camp and canoe was flooded out. Disappointed, but not surprised.
What could we do but turn around and head back west? (Stay with me, I'm getting to my point!) Granted, it was late. And being a wife who was tired and not ready to drive, what could I do but chatter away to help my husband stay awake?
Being a writer, what would I chatter on about but writing? For two hours, as we tried to find a place to stay--and I was starting to feel we were Mary and Joseph after the fourth hotel said they were full--I helped my husband stay awake by talking a lot about writing.
My husband isn't a writer. He's not even a reader. But he has lived with this crazy writer wife for a while now, and he's learning the lingo. Even if I couldn't discuss specifics, generalities were fine. And I could talk about things I want to do--or, just as likely, things I need to do in the near future, such as marketing.
Or things I'd delayed on, such as this blog post. ;)
Sometimes it's not a bad thing to be a borderline workaholic writer. It may have kept my family from a car accident since I was able to keep my husband's mind engaged on tiny, twisty Missouri highways at well-past midnight.
And for the record, even though I had my laptop with me on the trip, and I'd hoped to get some work done, I never did turn it on. Maybe I'm not as much of a workaholic as I thought...